


a laugh and a roar

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam watched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a laugh and a roar

1\. Washington taught him to love the sea.

 

It was the summer of the storms and the lightning kept them inside for days. Dean hated the crack and roar and wet; Sam chased the rain down the window glass in-between pages of a ratty old paperback he found under the equally ratty comforter. Dean had fallen asleep somewhere between wheel of fortune and reruns of dallas and the rain had let up somewhere in the 5th hour and page three-hundred and four and Sam was feeling restless.

There were only rogue flashes of lightning and Sam couldn't handle another page; he slipped on his boots and jacket, left a short note -- _don't worry_ \-- and slipped out the door as quietly as possible. The ocean was close, a small beach just past a ridge of pines and he laid out on the wet sand, shut his eyes and listened to the nothing and the waves and the calm.

"You're gonna catch pneumonia. What are you even doing out here?" The mist blurred Sam's eyes, but he could see Dean's face scrunched up in distaste. He reached up and pulled at Dean, laying him on the sand and pillowing his head on his stomach. 

"Just… listening."

 

2\. He hated the city.

 

Los Angeles, New York, Chicago; the city was always there -- lights and traffic and never-ending people. They'd lost their calm somewhere in the endless four lanes packed with cars and business attire and Samsonite briefcases. They didn't belong here in their flannel and ripped jeans over old henleys and work boots.

Dean looked overwhelmed, looking this way and that, not sure what to take in first and Sam could feel the buzzing in his brain. "Lets get out of here, man." Dean looked torn between vendors and old town diners full of sweet apple pie, but sighed and followed.

Worn business men working past twilight and early drinking crowds gave way to monuments and history and Sam couldn't help but slow down, taking in marble and iron full of names of passed heroes and reverence. Dean stood close, looking, not seeing, but indulging Sam, nonetheless. "I don't understand why you like this stuff, Sammy. never will."

Sam sat on a bench overlooking a dark slab, war etched in gold, dean settling beside him. "It's good to know we're not the only one's fighting for something."

"Fighting only gets you dead, Sammy." Dean scoffed, looking straight ahead at the black stone. Sam felt it roll over him -- _deaddyinggone_. He stared at Dean, surprised.

He'd forgotten somehow.

Sam really hated cities but he hated reminders -- _you were gone_ \-- more.

 

3\. The midwest was perfect.

 

They'd been on the road for days, nothing to keep Sam awake but Jimmy Page and Dean's horrific wailing while he watched corn wilt from Tennessee to Nebraska. the smell of stale cigarettes and musty dives rolled off them in waves, sown into them.

There was something about road dust and sweet corn and heavy bass between diners and roach motels covered in nicotine. Dean smiled more and Sam just watched. "How abouts a drink, Sammy? There's a little shack a couple of miles up that does a wicked tequila sunrise. I know how you like those girly drinks." Sam shoved him on the shoulder and laughed.

Dean let out a laugh and a roar, pushing eighty to nowhere and Sam just watched.


End file.
